Reckless
by Henabrey
Summary: She didn't like herself reckless; she was prone to getting herself in dangerous situations, get hurt. And here she was, reckless, with her partner all doe-eyed and gorgeous in front of her, and she wasn't listening to the warning bells...


"Reckless", by Henabrey

Rating: T for language

Summary: She didn't like herself reckless; she was prone to getting herself in dangerous situations, have guns held on her, get shot, start something with the wrong man, get hurt. And here she was, reckless, with her partner all doe-eyed and gorgeous in front of her, and she wasn't listening to the warning bells...

Setting: some time in the first half of the fifth season. This has been sitting on my computer for ages, and I finally dusted it off, so to speak, and got around to finishing it.

Spoilers: Mention of the events of 'Stalker'.

Disclaimer: Not my characters. I'm just borrowing them without permission.

* * *

She'd been drinking. They all had; it was the end of the day, the case was closed, time to celebrate. And there was no finer place to celebrate the closing of a case and the meting out of justice than Jones' Tavern. They'd all been drinking, and then they'd left her there alone.

She'd been drinking, but not enough to get drunk. She wouldn't have liked to try driving home, but she was pretty sure she could walk without staggering, talk without slurring. She was usually careful with alcohol. It didn't take much to get her to the staggering, slurring, drunk-dialling stage - she wasn't her mother's daughter in that regard, and there was a reason it usually took her all evening to drink a beer. What was that saying she'd heard once? Two drinks she was under the table, three drinks she was under the host. She was content to nurse a beer and watch the others put it away like there was no tomorrow.

Tonight, though, tonight was different. _She_ was different these days. She had a scar on her shoulder, a sliver of ice in her heart, and she didn't like going home when the end of the evening came and the others drifted off. Home was dark, and silent, and empty, a place of nightmares and sweaty, fear-twisted sheets, and she didn't want to be there.

_So fuck it_, she thought. _Fuck it_, and the next thing she knew there was a vodka and orange sliding down the back of her throat. Then another, and she was feeling that buzz, that tingly kind of warmth, and it made her reckless.

Reckless and her...they had an uneasy relationship. Didn't go together as a rule. It was the high school jock, all devil-may-care attitude and easy grin, and she was the quiet, prickly type who sat up the back of the class and didn't talk. Not the type of couple who'd be seen in public together. She and Reckless had furtive gropings behind the gymnasium bleachers on occasion and it always ended badly. For her. Reckless meant her going to abandoned houses by herself and getting guns held on her by murderers intent on adding her name to their list of victims. Reckless meant her jumping into bed with a murder suspect two seconds after she met him. Reckless meant her getting hurt.

Reckless gave her the scar on her shoulder and the sliver of ice in her heart she wanted so badly to forget.

The crowds were thinning out; it was getting late, and people had television or pissed off wives or half-forgotten children to get home to. Not her, though. Just a couple of mutant cats. And cats didn't give much of a crap what time you got home as long as you left food out for them in the morning. She could sit here all night and drink herself into oblivion if she wanted to. She didn't. But the alternative wasn't appealing, and that dose of recklessness that she'd drunk with the booze wanted her to stay there on her bar stool and see where things ended up.

Badly, probably. These things usually did. If she was lucky she'd just end up with the mother of all headaches and the sly glances of her co-workers in the morning. If she was unlucky she'd end up going home with the bartender, and the bartender was a two-fifty pound woman with tattoos and a bad dye job. _Really_ not her type. If she was _very_ unlucky the guy with the black leather jacket and the receding hairline sitting in the corner had a piece on him and a bad case of the grudges against cops and she'd be too drunk to stay out of the crossfire. She ought to go home.

Still, when the bartender caught her eye she nodded and tipped her glass. _Fill 'er up_.

Anyway, she was tired of being careful. Reckless might get her hurt on occasion, but what had being careful gotten her? Fuck all, that's right. Was she any less hurt because she'd been careful all her life? Did being careful stop her mom from forgetting to feed her, or leaving for days on end? Did being careful stop Patrick from fucking her whore of a sister? No. She was careful with herself, careful not to expose herself to pain and loss and loneliness, and look what she got for it. Pain and loss and loneliness. Clearly there was some happy medium that everyone else got to follow and that she missed out on. She was one or the other. Too careful, or too carefree. And hurt either way.

"I'm fucked either way," she murmured, running a finger along the dew on her glass.

"Lil?"

Damn, someone who knew her. Just what she needed now the bar top had started to blur nicely and Reckless had her half wanting to jump the next cute man she saw. She turned her head in the direction of the sound of her name.

It was Scotty. Good old partner Scotty, loyal friend and seriously hot guy. Another way Reckless had hurt her, first letting him get under her skin, around her walls and through her barricades, and then having to watch as he'd taken up with her sister. That had hurt like a bitch, all right. She'd forgiven him. Probably more recklessness, but he was Scotty. She just couldn't stay mad. And he'd proved over the years since that she could depend on him. She just wished he hadn't decided to come back here when she was feeling reckless and he was looking so damn sexy.

"Yep, it's me," she heard herself say. "What are you doing here?"

"I forgot my...uh...actually, I forgot my partner," he said, sitting on the stool next to hers and shrugging off his coat. He'd removed his tie somewhere along the way, she noticed, and had undone the first couple of buttons of his shirt. She wished he hadn't done that.

"Here I am, right where you left me," she said, with a lopsided smile. Damn, that last drink was really starting to get to her.

"You okay?"

She laughed. That question could take several hours to answer. He seemed to feel the stupidity of it himself, as he grinned. "I'm fine, Scotty. Really."

"Yeah," he said, shaking his head at the bartender's silent question. At least he knew when to quit. "Me too."

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "Really?"

"Really? I dunno," he said, studying the bar in front of him. Nice wood, nicely polished. She'd spent time staring at it as well. It wasn't exactly enthralling. "I was at the station, waitin' for my train, and...I dunno."

"You forgot your partner."

He shrugged. "You seemed...kind of distant tonight. And I didn't really like leavin' you here all alone."

She could swear she saw him flinch. He must have figured she'd hurt him for daring to suggest she needed protection. Well...fair enough. She hated anyone to think that. Just because she was female, and fragile, and all broken up inside..."I'm fine. I think the bartender's interested in me."

Scotty looked confused. "The bartender's a _woman_, Lil."

"She was giving me the eye earlier."

"Well, don't let me get in the way, you know, if you think you're in with a shot." He grinned at her, all cocky teasing warmth, and she couldn't help grinning back. Never could when it was Scotty.

"Nah, that's okay. She's not really my type, anyway."

He leant his arms on the bar and slid a sly glance Lilly's way, still grinning. "Well, thank God for that. You don't want to know the mental picture I was gettin'."

"Oh, I can imagine." She laughed, in a stupid drunk way that was nothing like her normal laugh.

There was a moment of silence, perfect warm companionship, while the noise of the bar around them started to dwindle. Lilly swirled the remains of her ice around her glass, pleased she still had the coordination. Scotty turned back to face her, grin faded and with a serious look in his eyes.

"You'd tell me, right? If it got really bad?"

Lilly froze. She should have known, should never have tried kidding herself, that the business-like, everything's-fine mask she wore at work would fool her partner for a second. He'd always been able to see through her like nobody else, and if anyone was going to notice that she was paler than usual, looked tired or just a little more fragile than normal, it was Scotty.

He took her silence as a no. "Or not me, someone? The...the shrink the boss made you go and see, or -"

She laughed again, and her glass tipped, slopping ice cold water over her hand. She barely noticed. "Yeah, cause that worked so well the last time." If there was one thing that was harder for her to do than talk about herself to people who knew her, it was to talk about herself to people who _didn't_. She'd resented the psychiatrist from the moment Stillman had brought up the subject, and it had taken her til the end of the first session to even say anything. Yeah, there was really no way she'd be going back there on her own accord.

Scotty had looked back down at the bar top. She could tell by the tight set of his mouth that he was hurt. Hurt and angry. Funny how she could barely see straight but she could still read the darkness in his eyes without effort. But then he'd always been an open book to her, and she hated to see him hurt. She wasn't sure how to answer him. He wanted her to say sure, Scotty, I'll pour my heart out to you, cry on your shoulder, let you be the knight in shining armour. But it would be a lie. Her whole life up until that point had been all about self-preservation, about surviving first her childhood and then all the hangups and issues that stemmed from it and stained her adult life like spilled blood, and the first rule of self-preservation was not to expose your weaknesses. To anyone. And opening her heart and talking about her trouble sleeping and the flashbacks she experienced every time she walked into the observation room...well, there were a few things less likely to happen in the world, but not many. But she couldn't tell Scotty all that. She could barely even bring herself to admit that she even _had_ weaknesses.

She laid a hand on his arm. "Scotty, you and me...we're not open people."

He looked at her, surprised at her touch. "Yeah, Lil, but -"

She shook her head, warning him off. "I'm fine, Scotty."

He'd turned back to face the bar, but she could see enough of his face to know that his eyes had clouded with anger. His hands had clenched together, the knuckles white. His temper was never very far below the surface, she knew; it wasn't the slow, deep current of emotion that slid beneath her own cool exterior. He was always quick to flare up, a spark that could ignite an inferno, there and gone in minutes and leaving him brooding and silent. She hated having him angry at her, but she was never usually so quick to try and dissipate the gathering storm. Must be the alcohol; must have been the last vodka and orange she'd just downed that had her reaching back out to him, placing her thin white hand over his. He didn't meet her gaze.

"I'm not...I'm not _fine_," she told him, in a slow, halting voice. His eyes slid to hers then, shocked at the admission. "But, Scotty, I'm okay. I promise."

She was constantly amazed at the complexity of his eyes. He liked to portray himself as a simple enough guy, who liked sports and cars and women, but one look into those eyes of his betrayed the more intricate truth. It was like gazing into floodwaters, she thought; the emotions she caught were all tossed and thrown together in a whirlpool, there on the surface and sinking beneath another within seconds. It was transfixing.

"Just okay?" he asked in a small voice.

He wanted her to be fine, she knew. It wasn't just because they were friends and he cared for her that made him want happiness and peace for her; it was that protective urge that she found simultaneously frustrating and endearing. If she was fine, he was fine. If she wasn't, he'd failed his mission to keep her safe. He would probably blame himself for every sleepless night, every bad dream she'd had since she'd been shot.

"Scotty, okay is good, okay?" she said, and then couldn't help a small giggle that escaped her. "Okay...okay is on the way to being fine."

Ah, those whirlpools of his. She detected new emotions in them at her words. Amusement. Relief. She smiled at him, glad to see him smiling back.

Her glass was empty, the last of the ice spilt and drying on the bar. Reckless would insist on her nodding at the bartender again, seeing just how far down the rabbit hole she was willing to go, but she was hesitant about getting seriously drunk in front of Scotty. He'd look after her, she knew; not let anything bad happen to her. Hell, he'd probably take her home, help her to bed and leave a bottle of aspirin out where she could find it in the morning. But if she kept knocking them back...he'd know. Okay might be on the way to being fine, but it was still a long way off it. Some might say it was a lot closer to being completely, utterly the opposite of fine. Fucked, even. When she woke up in the night, sweaty and tangled in her sheets from the latest bad dream, she felt a lot closer to being completely screwed up. Almost ready for the puzzle house. Drinking until she couldn't walk...it would numb the pain, sure. But Scotty knew a little something about numbing pain with whatever came out of a bottle. She couldn't do it in front of him. She couldn't have him _knowing_.

Besides, Reckless was making new demands of her. And it had nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with her partner.

Decision made, she slid off the barstool in one fluid movement, nearly lost her balance, managed to get her feet under her. She rifled through her wallet, looking for the right money. Why were American bills all the same colour? It was nearly impossible to tell them apart when you were too drunk to read them. She flung what she hoped was an adequate amount onto the bar top and turned to face Scotty.

"Going?"

"Yep," she said. "Past my bedtime." Her coat...when had her coat suddenly gotten an extra sleeve? She was having trouble figuring out how to put it on, and she glared at Scotty, who watched her efforts with barely concealed amusement.

"You could _help_, y'know," she told him crossly. "Asshole."

There was a hand on her wrist, burning her skin where it touched. His hand, sudden and strong, bending her wrist in the direction it needed to go in. The contact was lost as her arm slid into the silky tunnel of her sleeve, and she found herself missing his touch. Obviously she hadn't drunk _nearly_ enough tonight. Wanting her very platonic friend and partner to put his hands on her were clearly the actions of someone stone cold sober. Maybe she should stay here in the bar and make Scotty leave, because where Reckless was sending her thoughts and feelings was only going to make things very, _very_ complicated.

But he'd climbed off his own stool now and was shrugging into his own coat, and she realised that, whether she stayed or not, got completely smashed or went home now and went to bed, he was going to stick with her. It was irritating. _He_ was irritating. He had that little smirk on his face, the one that told her the others were going to be hearing all about her sudden taste for vodka and orange, and that she could expect a lot of hangover jokes when she got to work in the morning. That and directions on how to put on a coat. And the fact that he was going to stay with her and see where the night ended up was even more irritating. It was that knight in shining armour thing again. Rescue the fair princess from the dragon, slay the ogres...get the drunk maiden home from the bar in one piece. Practically a fairytale. She wanted to leave without him, to prove that she was perfectly fine on her own, drunk or not. She didn't need protecting...she didn't need him around... _wanted_ him around, maybe, but...oh, dammit...

"Walk you home?"

"I can do it," she insisted, and lurched into him. He staggered backwards but managed to keep his feet and wrap his arms around her waist to keep her steady.

"Care to rethink that?"

Dammit. She looked up at him, unused to being this close to him. She could smell the remains of his aftershave. And had he always had those little sparks of warm light in his eyes that hinted at the passion that lurked below the cool exterior? She was mesmerised, lost...

"C'mon," he said. "It's only twenty minutes from here. You can put up with me for another twenty minutes."

The recklessness in her, that had been hidden for the last few minutes during their conversation, suddenly had her wanting to put up with him for a lot longer than twenty minutes. Suddenly she wanted him around her all night. Those eyes, those hands, that mouth that curved so seductively...she suddenly wanted them above her, under her, inside her, tangled in her sheets. Blood rushed to her face. This was Scotty, for God's sake. Her partner. She had no business thinking about him in that way. Never had before - no, that wasn't quite true. She'd never _let_ herself think of him that way. And now she wanted him so badly she was practically shivering with desire.

Stupid Reckless.

Scotty was looking at her, puzzled. Probably wondering if she was actually a lot drunker than she had seemed and had suddenly lost the power of speech. She grinned at him. "Yes, I can."

A blast of cold air hit her in the face when Scotty held the door open, momentarily sobering her. She'd forgotten the late spring chill in the air while she'd been inside the warm womb of the bar drinking herself stupid, and now the wind sent knives through her. She pulled her coat closer around her, shivering, before she felt something being placed gently around her neck. Glancing down, surprised, she saw a soft wool scarf. Scotty's.

"Oh, no, Scotty, I couldn't -"

"Sure you can," he insisted, tucking it into the collar of her coat. He'd moved closer while he did it, and the seductive scent of his aftershave wafted over her once more. She felt the breath catch in her throat.

"See? It's easy," he said, teasing. "You just stand still. Let me take care of you."

_Let me take care of you._ The words washed over her. Nobody took care of her. She was Lilly Rush, and she had been used to taking care of herself from early childhood, as soon as she was old enough to figure out that her mother wasn't going to do it for her. Since then, she'd never _let_ anybody take care of her. She was Lilly Rush, after all, and she couldn't stand the thought that someone might think she was weak, that she couldn't cope on her own. But now...she looked into her partner's eyes, and through the alcohol haze she could see only caring reflected in his gaze. He didn't think she was weak or needed his help, despite the fact she was drunk and obviously in pain, he just...cared for her.

And really, letting him do it..._would it be so bad_?

"Easy," she said. And smiled. "Easy."

There was a little moment, that threatened to stretch into a longer moment, as they stared at each other. She wasn't sure she wasn't reading too much into it. She was drunk, and Reckless had wrapped its vise-like hands hard around her. Scotty was probably just being friendly. A caring and concerned partner. Just because she suddenly wanted to throw caution to the wind and launch herself at him, didn't mean he was feeling the same way. But...when she looked at him...there was a little glint in his eye that told her she wasn't all that far off track.

Had it always been there? Was she only now reckless enough to see it?

Then he looked away. His hands, that had been resting lightly on the edges of her collar, were removed, and she felt suddenly lost. The little glint in his eyes was hidden. "Come on," he said roughly. "Before we both freeze to death."

He indicated the right way and they started to walk. Closer than normal, but not quite touching. She told herself it was because he wanted to be able to catch her if she slipped on her unsteady feet, not quite sure if she believed herself. The idea that maybe he just wanted to be close to her made her warm inside, and she kept it hugged to herself. Stupid Reckless, stupid alcohol; not only was she going where she had no business going, but she was _happy _about it.

They walked in silence. Every so often she would feel him glance over to her, and every so often one or the other of them would let the sleeve of their coat brush against the other's. Lilly had started the walk just concentrating on staying upright and in more or less of a straight line, but as it progressed she found herself enjoying it. Despite being in the middle of a big city, the streets that night were quiet; it was too early for the dedicated drunks to spill out of the bars into the streets to brawl or stumble their way home; late enough that the diners and theatre-goers had left already. And either the muggers, rapists and murderers had taken the night off or she and Scotty were so wrapped in themselves that the ear-piercing shrieks of ambulance and police sirens failed to reach their ears. She felt...peaceful.

Almost happy.

Was it just the alcohol? Had it finally dulled the pain in her soul and the sliver of ice in her heart? Or was it the man walking in silence by her side?

She sneaked a glance at him, found him watching her, a peculiar expression on his face. She blushed.

"What?"

"Nothin'," he said, grinning. "You just looked...peaceful."

"Oh," she said, looking back down at the ground and trying to focus. She couldn't help the smile that spread over her face. "I feel peaceful."

"Good."

He was grinning at her again. She wasn't looking at him but she could feel it. That smile of his...it sent tendrils of something deep into her soul. Always had, actually - it was just tonight that she'd started paying attention. She was blushing again and was glad that it was dark so he couldn't see. "It's nice out here," she said eventually. "It's quiet, you know? Still." Like they were the only two people on earth, although she couldn't say it to him.

Oh, this reckless streak. She was barrelling towards a brick wall of pain at a hundred miles an hour and enjoying every second of it.

"Company ain't so bad?"

She smiled again. "Not so bad, no."

Silence again, quiet enough that she could hear the faint thump of a drum from a bar up ahead, hammering in time with her heartbeat. There were a group of girls on the sidewalk in front of its door, all done up in tiny skirts and halter tops despite the chill of the air, swaying in time to the music. So young, so impossibly young and carefree, only thinking with excitement of the night ahead of them. How she envied their happiness. Their lightness, when lately she felt so heavy and old and only half alive. She could see Scotty watching the tiny skirts out of the corner of her eye, and she envied them even more. Stupid. Stupid.

The girls disappeared into the bar, and as the door opened Lilly caught the wail of a saxophone above the drums. It skittered and jumped, jazzy and upbeat, and she wanted to dance. Christ, when was the last time she went dancing? With Kite? More recklessness.

And yet...she'd had fun then, right? Yes, she had. The vodka and orange hadn't dulled the memories of laughing over Kite's goofy dancing. Fuck it. Yes, fuck it. She was drunk, and she wanted to dance. She stopped walking, right outside the door of the bar, feeling the drum's beat thump and vibrate through the sidewalk to the soles of her feet. Scotty turned to see what she was doing, and she turned with him so they were facing each other. Her hands found his chest, fingers tingling from his warmth.

"Dance with me, Scotty," she said, and she pressed herself way too close to him. His eyes widened as her body came into contact with parts of him she had no business being that close to, and those little glints of warm lights in his irises doubled and trebled in intensity. Her own eyes widened a little, too, at the feel of him. God, she was going to regret this in the morning. But right now...

"Lil..."

"Come on," she said, swaying from side to side. "Dance with me."

He put his hands on her hips, but it was only to push her away slightly. She shivered as the cool air hit her front and tried to move against him again. He kept her off. "You're goin' to regret this, you know."

"Probably." But that was for the cold light of morning. Right now, Reckless and her wanted to see just how close to her partner she could get.

"And I don't want to make things uncomfortable between us."

"Scotty, relax," she told him, as firmly as she could around the fuzzy blur of alcohol. "It's just dancing." It wasn't; she knew it and he knew it, but her theory about her not being the only one feeling reckless proved correct when he put one hand on her waist and one hand in hers. She stared into his eyes, watching those warm little glints in his eyes whirling and changing, making her dizzy.

And so they danced. She was out of practice, and drunk, and only capable of a sway that was out of time to the music, but he didn't seem to care. His body moved in time to hers, swaying from side to side, but she noticed he did it in an easy, practiced way that suggested that given the right time and the right partner, he'd prove to be a good dancer. It intrigued her. Another side to him that she'd never even guessed at. He noticed her noticing, and he shrugged with a half-embarrassed smile on his face.

"Elisa, she loved to dance," he told her, his breath warming her face in little puffs. "When she was...when things were good...we'd go out, nearly every weekend."

There was a glint of pain in his eyes, there and gone again, and her heart broke, same as it always did when she saw that hollow look in his gaze. She squeezed the hand she was holding, and he smiled ruefully. "Guess I ain't forgotten how to do it."

"One of those things," Lilly said. Her free hand, that she'd kept resting on his shoulder as they danced, found its way up his neck, traced his jawline in a feather-light touch. She felt him shiver under her fingertips as his eyes whirlpooled and his breath hitched. Interesting.

"One of those things?"

"Like riding a bike," she said, watching the lights in his eyes dance. Why had it taken her this long to notice how fascinating his eyes were? She should have got drunk and let him walk her home years ago. "You know, one of those things you don't forget."

"I guess," he said, his voice rough. Her fingers had found his lips and were tracing their contours. Lilly hadn't even noticed herself doing it. She seemed to have lost control of herself entirely; Reckless had grabbed her, body and soul, and she was acting without even thinking about it. She gave herself up to it.

"Like riding a bike," she said again, her voice a whisper, and she was moving closer to him. The heat from his body tangled with her clothes. "Dancing. Kissing..."

And her mouth, her mouth was only an inch from his, his eyes all she could see, and she was going to do it, she really was, damn the consequences, and she was leaning in and so was he, and their lips had almost met and she could almost taste him, before he pulled back, looked away and cleared his throat. She stared at him, hurt. He was avoiding her gaze, staring instead at the door to the club, his jaw clenched tightly shut. There was enough light spilling from the club's windows that she could see a faint blush stealing its way across his dusky skin. He was embarrassed. Why? Had she misread things? Didn't he want her after all?

His eyes darted up to hers, briefly, and she read misery in his gaze beyond the discomfort. No, she hadn't misinterpreted - he wanted her as badly as she wanted him right then. But...what? Why was he just standing there instead of kissing her?

"Scotty -"

"I'm sorry," he said, nearly a whisper. His eyes had darted away again and were engrossed in the door to the club. She wished he'd look at her again, give her a little longer to read the words in his eyes, but he was staring at the door like the secret of life was written on it. She sighed.

"Scotty, I -"

"I'm sorry," he said again, his eyes still firmly not on hers. "That shouldn't have...I shouldn't have..."

"No, I'm sorry," she said, backing away slightly. "I obviously misinterpreted. It's fine." She was slightly surprised she'd managed a big word like _misinterpreted_ after the number of drinks she'd had. Slightly surprised at the chill she felt now she was away from his warmth.

"No, you -" Scotty trailed off, still studying the door. _Didn't misinterpret_, she thought he was going to finish, but he'd bitten it back. He wasn't going to say it, she knew, and she felt the slow burn of frustration uncoil in her stomach. He obviously hadn't _wanted_ to pull away - the look on his face screamed the fact. He wanted to be kissing her as much as she wanted to be kissing him, but she could tell she wasn't going to get any more from him than that hair's-breadth-from-kissing they'd just shared. Not unless she pushed things a little. Well...well, fine. So she'd push. She didn't stop to wonder why she _wanted_ to push, _wanted_ to be kissing him. Wouldn't it be better to just leave things as they were, chalk things up to the alcohol and recklessness and just go home with things unsaid and undone? But, no. Reckless demanded otherwise and she went with it.

"It's fine," she said finally. "I mean, I thought...but obviously I was wrong. My mistake." There was a movement in his eyes, leaving the door for a second but not quite meeting hers. Time to push harder. She shrugged, one hand on her hip, feigning indifference. "Okay, well, if you don't want me, that's fine. I can take a hint. Whatever, right? Plenty more fish in the sea, as they say."

Scotty's eyes turned back to hers, looking momentarily shocked, then annoyed, then hurt. He opened his mouth like a dying fish, thought for a second and then closed it. She turned, smiling to herself. Hooked. She waved one hand loosely over her head as a goodbye.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow, then."

She could practically feel him thinking, and she counted to herself as she walked away. _One, two, four, whoops, three, four..._and then she heard footsteps behind her and she smiled again, because she'd known he couldn't leave it there no matter how easy an out she'd given him.

He grabbed her arm and spun her around. The cool air had cleared her head a little, but not enough to make a sudden change of direction something she could handle easily, and she staggered as her feet tried to keep themselves upright. He held her steady, close up against him, and she tried to look nonchalant as she stared into his eyes that burned so fiercely she was almost afraid of igniting from their heat. "It ain't that I don't want you," he said, his voice gravelly.

"Then...?"

"Lil, we can't."

"Why not?"

"You've been drinkin'."

He was being _noble_? Here she was practically throwing herself at him and he was being _noble_? God save her from that knight in shining armour thing he had going. "So have you," she pointed out. Not as much as her, true, and not enough to be really affected by it, but he'd had a few.

"I ain't drunk," he said. "Come on, you know you'll regret this tomorrow. I don't want to spoil what we got by some silly drunken mistake."

"It's just a stupid kiss, Scotty."

"You said that about the dancin'."

"Yeah, well, I mean it this time."

He shook his head at her. "It ain't just a kiss, Lil. You know it ain't."

"Sure it is," she said, still trying to feign nonchalance. Trying to pretend to herself that she wasn't hurt by his refusal to take advantage of her recklessness. He let her go, then, and she managed to stay upright on her shaky feet. "People do it all the time, even if they're just friends. It's practically the law at Christmas parties, right? No big deal."

"Not me and you."

She opened her mouth, wanting to tell him he was being stupid, closed it again without speaking, then opened it again. "You sure you just don't want me? Because here I am drunk and virtually throwing myself at you, _and_ I'm wearing that shirt that brings out my eyes, and I don't _think_ I'm ugly, but you're just standing there staring at me instead of kissing me." God, now she sounded desperate.

"You're beautiful," Scotty said, finally cracking a smile. His gaze pinned hers. "And you got no idea how much I want you, but..."

"You can't blame a girl for feeling rejected," she said, still lost in his eyes. The night sky wheeled overhead.

"I just don't want you like this, that's all."

That noble thing again. It always got in the way. "Like what?" she asked, pretending she didn't know.

"Drunk," he said. "Sad. Reckless."

She laughed. It sounded bitter to her ears. Scotty didn't want her if she was feeling reckless? _Scotty_? Scotty, who was Reckless personified? "But, Scotty, you know I'd never...if I wasn't feeling this way." If it wasn't for the vodka and oranges, in other words, the effect he had on her would never have seen the light of day.

"Yeah, I know," he said, and although his eyes avoided hers again she caught a whisper of a long, quiet grief, and she felt some knowledge hidden deep inside her shift and twist. She wasn't sure she wanted that knowledge to float to the surface of her mind where it could be put into words. Reckless but perhaps not reckless enough - all of a sudden the shield that the alcohol and recklessness had given her cracked open just a little and let all her fears and insecurities seep through once more. She took a step back from him.

"So..." she said.

"So..."

"So I guess that's it," she said, trying to keep her voice light and breezy, trying to pretend none of this was a big deal. "We'll just stay friends, then. Keep our hands off each other in future."

"Yeah," he said, and there was a definite note of disappointment she wasn't sure she liked in his voice. Wasn't sure she didn't like it, either.

"I can...probably take it from here," she said. She turned, knowing even as she did that his face was falling, that the little lights in his eyes were dying, one by one. Finding that she wanted to watch those lights return to his gaze because of her words. Stupid Reckless. Look where it had taken her now.

Five, ten steps away, she wasn't sure, and she found she couldn't go any further. She stood and looked at the sky, feeling him watching her. How bright the stars were. Usually you couldn't see them all that much; the city lights and inclement Pennsylvania weather meant that they were usually only visible through a faint haze, if at all. But tonight...it was as if a million little lights were shining down on her. Illuminating her. God, she was drunk. She must be, since she was about to say something to Scotty she'd normally never dream of.

"And...if I came to you sober?" she asked, still with her back turned to him, still with her face to the stars. "If I'd thought it through, and came to you reckless but sober?"

He was practically boring a hole between her shoulder blades with his gaze. "I don't want to risk what we got now if you're goin' to regret it later."

Neither did she, but if she thought there was the slightest chance she'd change her mind she'd never come to him in the first place. Reckless, but not _that_ reckless. "Neither do I," she said, still turned away. "But...if I was sure? Or at least as sure as I can be?"

There was a pause, while she still looked at the stars, feeling him thinking and wondering. Hoping.

Eventually, he spoke. "Then...wild horses, Lil."

She turned then, and looked at him quizzically.

"Couldn't keep me from you."

She smiled, a full smile that had been largely missing from her face since that night in the observation room that had ended with a trip to the emergency room, a bullet wound in her shoulder and a sliver of ice in her heart. Her face felt strange and somehow stiff, unused to the expression. Scotty was expressionless; nothing but the intensity of his gaze betrayed the torrent of emotions she knew her words had unleashed. She could read each and every one in his eyes like he was an open book. Hope; a little wariness; passion. Above all, hope, and she thought that maybe there was hope stirring in her own heart as well.

How things could change in a few short seconds.

There was a silence, while Scotty's eyes wheeled and changed in the light from the streetlamps and Lilly felt recklessness and hope warring with fear inside her, before she smiled one last time and turned away. Whatever may or may not happen in the future, it wasn't going to be decided tonight. Scotty was right; she'd been drinking. She'd be stupid to do anything other than just go home and go to bed. Alone. "I'll see you tomorrow, Scotty," she said over her shoulder.

There were footsteps behind her again, hurrying a little, and then her partner appeared next to her. Perhaps he'd decided not to wait for her after all? She looked at him without speaking.

"I said I'd walk you home," was all he said.

"You did," she agreed. Ever the gentleman.

They walked on in silence, feet crunching slightly in the drift of fallen leaves that collected against fences here and there. Lilly suddenly remembered that there was a collection on her own front steps that she'd been meaning to sweep off for...oh, about four days. Her next door neighbour had been giving her filthy looks, as though the small pile of leaves by her door was lowering the tone of the whole street. Lilly shrugged inwardly. She thought maybe she'd live dangerously and leave the leaves where they were, see what happened.

Reckless. It could strike in so many different ways.

"Will you?"

Scotty's voice broke into her thoughts, and she started. They were on her street now, she noticed; her house was only a few doors away. "Will I what?" she asked.

"Come to me."

He was staring straight ahead at the sidewalk, face carefully neutral as though afraid of spooking her, but his eyes...those eyes of his betrayed him. She realised then just how important this was to him, and, yes, it spooked her. But it intrigued her as well.

She laughed. "I've been drinking, remember?" she said, by way of answer. She wanted to give him more, wanted to soothe the wariness and fear of disappointment from his gaze, but couldn't.

His mouth twisted. "You're right. Sorry. Forget it."

"No, that's not what I...look at me, Scotty," she said, seeing he'd taken her words the wrong way. She stopped walking, reached out and touched his hand softly, and he looked at her, curious. "That's not what I meant. I'm not saying no. I'm just saying I've been drinking."

He just watched her.

"It's just...it's a big thing, you know?" she asked, relieved to see him nodding. "I can't answer it now. Not tonight when I'm...feeling the way I am." Reckless. Stupid, drunk, reckless.

"Yeah," he said. "You're right. I wouldn't want you to..."

"Rush into something?" she finished, and he smiled.

"Exactly," he said.

She disentangled her hand from his, missing the warmth as soon as she was no longer touching him, and started to walk again. He followed, but she was so wrapped up in her own thoughts she barely noticed him. After less than a minute Scotty stopped walking, and she looked round, surprised to see that they'd reached her front door without her even noticing. "So," Scotty said. He was keeping a safe distance, hands behind his back. Trying deliberately not to look like he wanted anything more than a casual wave goodbye.

"So," Lilly said, trying not to smile. "Thanks for walking me home."

"You're welcome." Still with his hands safely away. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Sure."

She made it up the steps without stumbling, and after a brief fumble had the key in the door and the lock disengaged. She could feel him watching her from the pavement, trying not to climb the stairs and unlock the door himself. The door cracked open, revealing the dark interior of her living room. There was a soft mew of greeting from one of the cats. Olivia, she thought from the sound. And just then, at the thought of the cold house and the empty bed waiting for her, she didn't want to send Scotty off with a casual goodbye. She wanted more.

She turned and studied him. He was still standing watching her with his hands comically hidden behind him like a child who'd been told not to touch. A smile played across her face, and as she watched an answering smile lit up his features.

"I'm not saying yes, okay?" she said, descending the stairs again. "Not yes. This is...just in case I'm never reckless again." And she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

He didn't respond at first; the shock must have frozen him. But it was no more than a second before he was returning her kiss, his hands on her face and tangling in her hair, his breath mingling with hers and his tongue darting out to taste her lips. It seemed endless, wonderfully endless.

Eventually she pulled away from him, her heart pounding and a nervous laugh escaping her. She practically ran back up the steps. "Tomorrow," she said to his startled face, embarrassed and flustered and aroused and joyous all at the same time. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Inside it was dark, but she didn't need a light to find her way to the couch. Olivia was there, and the cat pushed her face into Lilly's hand by way of greeting. Lilly absentmindedly stroked the thick orange fur as she waited for her heartbeat to return to normal. Out in the street, she heard slow and measured footsteps lead slowly away from her door. He was gone.

Even now, she couldn't say yes, that she'd go to him tomorrow reckless but sure. She couldn't say that in the cold light of morning the after effects of the alcohol and the wonderful kiss wouldn't be brushed away like cobwebs by the fears that had plagued her all her life. She couldn't say that all the reasons she and Scotty should be no more than friends wouldn't seem insurmountable. She couldn't even say that she would even remember all this had happened - the alcohol was still roaring through her veins like a speeding locomotive. But she _could_ say that she wasn't definitely going to say no. She could say that she was thinking about it.

She thought about that kiss and how she wanted it to be the first of many. She thought about the way he looked at her, all those lights sparkling and circling in his eyes. She thought about the feel of his hands on her face, the warmth. She thought about how the sliver of ice she'd been carrying around for months since that night where she'd lain bleeding on the observation room floor had finally thawed as she stood lost in his gaze. And she thought that maybe, maybe, being reckless wasn't really that bad.

After all, what had playing it safe ever gotten her?

* * *

The end...so does she go to Scotty and say yes? Or does she pretend that none of it ever happened? I'll leave it up to you and your imaginations.


End file.
